THE CONTRACT
784 Words
The next morning, Amara sat alone at the dining table with the marriage contract in front of her.
She hadn't slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she heard Damian's voice.
My family didn't destroy yours.
She wanted to believe he was lying.
It would have been easier.
If the Cross family wasn't responsible, then who was?
Amara reached for the contract.
She read every page again.
Six months.
Separate bedrooms.
No interference in personal affairs.
No intimacy.
No falling in love.
And the clause that bothered her most:
Neither party shall investigate the events surrounding the Vale-Cross dispute of five years ago.
She picked up a pen.
Then stopped.
Her phone rang.
It was Damian.
She stared at his name for several seconds before answering.
“What?”
“You've had enough time.”
“Good morning to you too.”
“I wasn't calling to be polite.”
“I know.”
“Have you made your decision?”
Amara looked at the contract.
“Yes.”
A pause.
“And?”
“I'll sign.”
Silence.
Then Damian asked quietly,
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“Then why?”
“Because I refuse to watch my father lose everything.”
Damian didn't respond.
She continued.
“But understand something. I may sign your contract, but I don't trust you.”
“I don't expect you to.”
“And I don't like you.”
“I know.”
“And I will never fall in love with you.”
There was another pause.
“Good.”
Amara frowned.
“Good?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because that makes this easier.”
Her chest tightened for reasons she refused to examine.
“Where do I sign?”
“I'll send someone to collect the documents.”
“No.”
She stood.
“I'll bring them myself.”
“Amara—”
“Don't worry. I won't run away.”
She ended the call.
Two hours later, she arrived at the Cross family headquarters.
The building was enormous, made of glass and steel, with the Cross name displayed across the entrance.
Amara stared at it.
Five years ago, she had promised herself she would never step inside.
Now she was walking through the front doors as Damian's future wife.
The receptionist stood immediately.
“Miss Vale?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Cross is expecting you.”
Of course he was.
Everything with Damian Cross was always perfectly planned.
She followed the receptionist upstairs.
When the office door opened, Damian was standing beside his desk.
He wore a dark suit, his sleeves rolled slightly above his wrists.
His eyes moved to the contract in her hand.
“You came.”
“I said I would.”
She placed the papers on his desk.
“Where's the pen?”
Damian handed her one.
Their fingers touched.
It lasted less than a second.
Still, Amara pulled her hand back.
Damian noticed.
Of course he noticed.
“Relax,” he said. “I don't bite.”
“I wouldn't put it past you.”
A faint smile appeared.
“There she is.”
“What?”
“The woman who hates me.”
“I never stopped.”
She signed her name.
Amara Vale.
Damian picked up the pen.
He signed beneath her name.
Damian Cross.
The moment the ink dried, something changed.
They were no longer simply enemies.
They were legally bound.
Damian closed the contract.
“Six months.”
Amara nodded.
“Six months.”
“Separate rooms.”
“Yes.”
“No intimacy.”
“Yes.”
“No falling in love.”
She looked directly into his eyes.
“Absolutely.”
Damian held her gaze.
“Then we have a marriage.”
Amara frowned.
“No.”
She picked up her bag.
“We have a business arrangement.”
She walked toward the door.
Damian's voice stopped her.
“Your wedding is Saturday.”
She turned sharply.
“Saturday?”
“Yes.”
“That is three days from now.”
“I know.”
“You arranged the wedding already?”
“Everything is ready.”
Amara stared at him.
“You're unbelievable.”
“I've been called worse.”
She shook her head and walked out.
Neither of them noticed the elderly man standing at the end of the hallway.
He had heard everything.
His expression was cold.
He pulled out his phone and made one call.
“They signed it.”
A pause.
“Yes.”
His eyes narrowed.
“The marriage is happening on Saturday.”
Another pause.
Then he smiled.
“Now we can finally begin.”
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